Savage
by Romantika
Summary: UST/MSR. Pre-XF. Meeting way before the X-files complicates M+S's relationship even further.


Title: Savage  
Author: Romantika~*  
Category: Pre-XF, SRA  
Keywords:Mulder/Scully romance  
Rating: PG-13  
Dedication: Thanks to Savage Garden and asrana, sam, kat, SaRaH, Jen (the nutty girl from Australia *g*), Tanja and anyone and everyone else who's been so encouraging!  
Disclaimer: My psychiatrist has just informed me...Scully and Mulder are not mine. I need even more pills now...oh and I don't own the songs either! That's Savage garden property-which reminds me, Savage Garden and their album rule!  
Spoilers: The Pilot, Chinga (very vague)  
Summary: How will meeting before the X-files change Mulder and Scully's relationship?

Author's Notes: I've always wanted to do a Pre-XF story, so here it is! Sorry about any time inaccuracies. This wasn't even gonna be a Savage Garden thing until I wrote one line that finished with "to the moon and back" and since I love the song so muchthis is what turned out! Quoting of the songs during my own words is completely intentional as this fic is based on the album.  
  
*********  
She's taking her time making up the reasons  
To justify all the hurt inside  
Guess she knows from the smiles and the look in their eyes  
Everyone's got a theory about the bitter one  
*********

A 23-year-old psychology student downed another beer with his university friends in a bar they'd recently discovered, but had quickly become the only place to go.

"So, Mulder, seen any hotties around?" Jake Hunter asked him casually. The student sighed inwardly at Jake's shallow question and gazed around the room. A few blondes, a few brunettes. He grinned slowly. And I thought Jake was the one with a one-track mind. His face remained uninterested until he saw a lone redhead sitting in a booth.

"Who's the redhead?" he asked Jake, who surveyed the room until he saw the object of interest.

"Doesn't really seem your type, Mulder," Jake said, grinning, "She's been here a few times. She gets approached by guys quite often, but apparently, she's pretty cold." Mulder's stare remained fixed on the girl's fiery red hair that flowed to just below her shoulders. He realised that her hair must attract a fair amount of male attention, whether out of attraction or curiosity. "Don't even bother, Mulder," Jake said, snapping him out of his pondering. He gave Jake a questioning look. "She's a tough girl. So I hear." Mulder didn't know whether it was because of a need to rebel against Jake's warning or just because he was curious, but he felt the need to approach this girl.

"I think I'll go find out for myself," Mulder said, rewarded with Jake's slightly taken aback face. "I'm curious," he said, before walking slowly in the direction of flame-red hair.  
  
*******  
That's why she shies away from human affection  
But somewhere in a private place  
She packs her bags for outer space  
And now she's waiting for the right kind of pilot to come  
*******

"Hey," he said softly, to attract her attention. She looked up to see the face of a young, attractive man, probably a student. Maybe law or psychology. 

"Yes?" she said, a little colder than she meant to. Suddenly nervous wrinkles creased his brow.

"Um, hey," he repeated. She sighed at his pathetic introduction.

"And you are?"

"Mulder. Fox Mulder," he said gratefully, sitting down across from her immediately.

"That's your real name?" she replied, as calm as was possible when this guy's knees were brushing her own. Even that slight contact caused shivers to run up through her legs.

"Yeah," he replied, somewhat defensively, "What's yours?"

"Scully. Dana Scully," she said, somewhat proudly.

"Well, Scul-lee," he said heavily, mocking her own name and receiving a small glare from her, "Nice to meet you." She looked at him doubtfully and took another sip of her drink.

"Student, right? Law? Psychology?"

"Psychology. And you are a...medical student?"

"Soon to be. How did you guess?"

"I don't go to university every day for nothing, you know." Her face questioned him. "You just seem like the doctor type. Cool, professional." She was about to ask how'd gotten that impression from a conversation that had lasted a bare minute when she became aware of a tall, tanned student approaching their table. "Jake?" Mulder said. 

"Mulder. Just came to see how you're getting on."

"*Getting on*?" Dana said, already infuriated.

"Looks like you've got your work cut out for you, man. Good luck," Jake said, before turning around to walk back to the bar and his jock friends laughing in the direction of Jake and her booth. Mulder turned his head back to Dana, begging her to stay.

"I might be 18, but I'm not stupid. Goodbye Fox'," she said, with a note of finality in her voice. She stood up quickly and was just walking towards the door when she heard a deep voice behind her and stopped in her tracks. 

"Dana?" She turned around. "It's Mulder."

"What?"

"Don't call me Fox. It's Mulder." She smiled and looked into his eyes carefully. He didn't seem like a complete jerk. In fact, she was sure she could lose herself in those warm, hazel eyes.

"Then don't call me Dana," she said, regaining her composture and averting her gaze. 

"Then what do I call you? Sweetheart?" he asked jokingly.

"Yeah, that or Scully," she replied, equally jokingly. She realised they were standing by the door and standing close, afraid to walk away, afraid not to. "Well," she said, gesturing towards the door, her voice softening. Suddenly, she felt incredibly close to this stranger, daring her into an actual conversation, unlike most of the idiots that frequented this bar. They just wanted to have a quick ride with her, whereas this guy, Mulder, seemed like he could take her anywhere and she really wouldn't mind going with him. "Fox Mulder. And you go to the university just down the road?"

"Yeah," he said, his eyes lighting up with green sparks when he heard her asking where he lived.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, *Mulder*. Maybe I'll see you around." And before he could ask where she lived, she was gone. He went back to drinking with his friends, but a pair of crystal blue eyes were permanently engraved on his mind. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dana Scully was staring into space again. Images of the previous evening placed a sweet, purple cloud over her concentration and she found it hard to focus on anything. She heard a muffle come from her mother before she realised she was speaking to her.

"Sorry, Mom, what did you say?" Her mum gave her the same look she'd been giving her all morning and frustration was emitting from her motherly face. "Uh...again?" Dana said with an apologetic look.

"I *said*, what's wrong?" Her mother was worried. Dana wasn't exactly the dreamy, staring-into-space type of girl. "Did something happen when you went out last night, Dana?" In ordinary circumstances, Dana confided in her mother, but she was an independent girl and rarely seeked guidance, just a listening ear. However, she didn't feel comfortable telling her mother about the tall, dark stranger she'd met in the bar. 

"I talked to one guy," she said hesitantly, attracting a raised eyebrow from her mother, "But only for a couple of minutes. It was getting late." Her mother nodded, slightly reassured, but not entirely. 

"So is there anything you want to do this fine Saturday?" she said, gesturing out towards the sun's rays that were shining into the room. "I know it's not very nice for you when your father's away. Maybe we could go shopping or something!" Dana silently wondered why her mother constantly expected her daughters to be distraught every time their father went away, they were used to it by now. 

"Um, no thanks Mom. There are some errands I have to run."

"OK, Dana," Mrs.Scully said, without questioning. She knew Dana would tell her in her own time. And with subtle permission granted, Dana grabbed her jacket and left.

********  
I would fly you to the moon and back  
If you'll be if you'll be my baby  
Got a ticket for a world where we belong  
So would you be my baby?  
********

Fox Mulder stared blankly at the professor. He couldn't comprehend a word he was saying, just a vague murmur coming from the front of the room. It was only when he saw his fellow students stand up that he realised he could go back to his dorm. 

He started to walk quickly towards the dorm when he heard a female voice call from behind him, "Fox!" He turned round ecstatically, expecting a flash of red hair to meet his vision. He couldn't contain his disappointment when it was only his blonde friend, Karen and he let out a small sigh. He should have known it wasn't Dana, he had told her to call him Mulder. Or sweetheart, he thought fondly. His attention snapped back to Karen when she hit his head with her magazine. "Sorry to disappoint you. What other female could have called out your name in the middle of university?"

"Hundreds. I'm a popular guy," he said, jokingly. She smiled.

"Going up to your dorm?" Mulder nodded. "K. I'll catch you later, Fox!" 

"Mul-"

"Yeah, yeah, Mulder. Whatever," she called and within a second, she was five feet away from him, sauntering down the corridor, blonde hair swinging from side to side, turning more than a few male heads. He laughed softly to himself and continued his journey back to his dorm. 

Half an hour later, he was awoken from his quiet daydreaming by the deep, yet irritatingly loud, sound of Jake's voice yelling, "Hey! Mulder! Female visitor here for you!" Mulder was mildly disturbed by the excitement he could feel rising up his throat, thick like lava, which he knew would erupt into a less-than-manly, squeaky "Hi!" when he saw her again. Then Karen came waltzing into the room. She glared at him. 

"What is it with you? Everytime you see me, you sigh and look sadly at the floor!"

"Female visitors aren't allowed in the male dorm," he said, in a deadpan voice, not bothering to hide his already obvious disappointment.

"Like I have ever paid attention to that! What is *up* with you? You've been really quiet all day, Fo-Mulder," she corrected quickly, her concerned, blue eyes looking at him carefully. Not blue like Dana's He groaned inwardly at the millionth reference he'd made that day to the redhead in the bar. He didn't usually *crave* to see a girl, to take her out somewhere, anywhere she wanted. As long as she was with him, he'd go to the moon and back. What a pleasant dreamnever gonna happen. Reality check. "Mulder?! Hello?! Your eyes are glazing over!" Karen said, with more than a touch of irritation in her voice. He was about to give her another feeble answer when Jake's voice came ringing through the air again.

"Hey Mulder! Another female visitor! You sure are popular with the ladies today!" He almost yelled, "Shut *up* you bonehead!" back when he realized there was only one other female who would call in at his dorm.

"Mulder," she said politely, stepping into the dorm. Jake's eyes ran up and down her figure approvingly. Mulder glared at him. 

"Oh, it's not *her* you've been thinking about all day, is it?" Karen cried, frowning disapprovingly at the figure in the doorway.

"Karen," the girl said, a little less politely. 

"What do you want, Phoebe?" Mulder said coldly, trying to build ice walls around himself. He knew Phoebe would melt those walls away with the fire that she was.

"I just wanted to see how you are, Mulder," she said, stepping closer.

"Look Phoebe, I'm really not in the mood right now. I have something else on my mind."

"Another female?" Jake piped in, teasingly. 

"For your information, yes! I met a reallyamazing girl yesterday and I've been thinking about her a *lot*, in fact, all day. Does anyone have a problem with that?" he said, his voice growing louder with every word, until he was shouting. Then he saw *her* in the doorway, behind Jake. He looked down at the floor, begging it to open and swallow him up. It didn't obey and he was forced to look up into four pairs of amused eyes. 

********  
Love is like a barren place  
And reaching out for human faith is  
Is like a journey I just don't have a map for  
********

"Uh, I believe you have *another* female visitor, Mulds," Jake said, slapping Mulder's back before sauntering victoriously out the door. Dana raised her eyebrows at the two other girls looking straight at Mulder. Mulder sat quietly for a few seconds, praying for a fire alarm, a cardiac arrest, maybe even an earthquake. But the dorm remained in tense silence. He felt it was his duty to make a one-liner of some kind, but no humorous thoughts came to mind, so he chose for a more serious tone.

"Karen, Phoebe, can you guys go? I'd like to talk to Dana alone," he said, glancing at the blonde and brunette who looked less than happy at his chosen words. They stared back at him, expressing their desire to stay put.

"Yeah sweetheart, what is it with all these females?" Dana said, moving close to him. He did his best to hide his surprise at her words, but saw her intention when Phoebe and Karen got up quickly and left.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, when the door closed, finally leaving him and Dana alone.

"You don't like having three females in your dorm room?"

"It's against the rules," he said, matter-of-factly. She smiled a little. "Besides, Karen and Phoebe are just friends." He wasn't quite sure why he felt the need to tell her that, he was just saying anything to make sure she wouldn't leave again.

"Even the brunette? She seemed like she had more than just friendly intentions."

"You're observant," he said, grinning briefly at her.

"Butyou don't want to be with her because she has too much control over you."

"You should be in the FBI!" he said, laughing softly. She smiled again and held his gaze for a second or two, before breaking the electricity that seemed to spark whenever their eyes locked. 

"I just came to see how you're doing."

"Well, not much has changed in my life since last night," he said, jokingly. She blushed and stumbled over her words.

"Oh yeah, well, um, thenI just came to sayHi."

"Hi," he repeated back to her, fully aware that they were melting in each other's eyes. That was when he realised that he was truly falling for her, into her. Within days, I'll be in love with her. Then I'll lose her. Memories of a sweet, little 8-year-old girl floating up, up and away, up to the sky, to the moon, to the stars. He didn't want to lose this girl too. But how can I lose her if I never have her? he thought, his eyes saddening.

"Anyway, Dana, I have a lot of work to do. It was nice seeing you again," he said, gently pushing her towards the door. Hurt was written on her face. "Goodbye," he said, a little more forcefully. She nodded slightly and tears began to form in her eyes. He shut the door before he could see the tears fall.

********  
Come stand a little bit closer  
Breathe in and get a bit higher  
You'll never know what hit you when  
I get to you  
********

I walked into the J. Edgar Hoover building feeling better than I had in a long time. I was doing what I wanted to do. I was being who I wanted to be. I loved being an FBI agent and I had control over my life. Then everything spun out of control.

I sat in front of Blevins, speaking eloquently, nodding and saying "Sir" in all the appropriate places when he said, "Are you familiar with an agent named Fox Mulder?" My stomach lurched and something jumped into my throat. Maybe it was my heart. I coughed uncomfortable and managed to choke out the words, "Yes I am." At least, I must have because he asked me another question. Was it something to do with the X-files Project?

"I believe it has something to do with unexplained phenomenon," I said hopefully. Why is he asking me about Mulder? Aside from some talk about him at Quantico, I've been able to isolate that part of my memory. Sort of. Did I just hear him say he wants me to assist Mulder on the X-files? Be his partner? I choked again, but this time it was from the black smoke descending from the shadowy man in the corner. I stood up, accepting my fate and turned my back on the authority who sealed it.

********  
Anytime I need to see your face I just close my eyes  
And I am taken to a place  
Where your crystal mind and magenta feelings  
Take up shelter in the base of my spine  
********

I looked over the report again. "Einstein's Twin Paradox: A New Interpretation." I tried to build up a personality to fit with the scientific words and the face I could see like a photograph when I closed my eyes, perfectly etched on my memory. Blue eyes. The chances of this happening was astronomically impossible. That two people, who met up 15 years ago, who wanted to do different things with their lives, could be thrown together by men who knew nothing of their previous transgressions, or of their missed transgressions, as was the case. I shut the report hastily and pushed it away from me, across the desk. Maybe it would disappear. Maybe she will. Maybe I will too. I heard a knock on the door and I racked my brains in a blinding panic to find something perfect to say to *her*. Miss. Dana Scully. Blue eyes. 

"Nobody down here but the FBI's Most Unwanted." OK, not quite perfect, but maybe it's pathetic enough to stop her murdering me on sight. And then, I could sense her standing next to me. I could smell her and her scent floored me. Somehow I hadn't forgotten that unique scent in 15 long years. Musk. Cotton. Sweetness. Dana.

"Agent Mulder." I kept playing with the slides on top of the projector and prayed for the floor to open up and swallow me, the same way I'd prayed in a way too crowded university dorm the last time we met. "Sweetheart." My head jerked up at that and my eyes made contact with hers. She hadn't changed.her eyes still struck a chord in my soul, begging me to embrace her and protect her from all the evils she would soon be prey to. But still no words came to my mouth. "I've been assigned to work with you," she said slowly, looking slightly amused at my silence. 

"Oh, isn't it nice to be suddenly so highly regarded? So who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scul-lee?" Oh, *now* the words come flowing out. In a smooth flow of sarcasm and mocking of her name, in the same way I'd mocked her when I was 23. Great, Mulder.   
  
********  
I don't need to try to explain  
I just hold on tight and If it happens again  
I may move so slightly to the arms  
And the lips and the face  
********

Wow, he looks hot in glasses. I'd never really pegged him as the glasses type. But he looks *hot*. Other than that, he looks like he hates me. Well, I hate him. I want him. The personal revelation slapped me hard and I momentarily stumbled over my words, mumbling about looking forward to working with him. Meanwhile, I was fixated on his lips. Has the attraction really not faded in 15 years? So many people have crossed my path, built up my memories, formed my personality in 15 years and his lips are still the most vivid image of all. This could be dangerous. His lips were moving again and I tried to re-focus my senses, while desperately trying to remain angry at him and his.lips. This could really be dangerous. He thinks I'm here to spy on him?!

"If you have any doubt about my qualifications or credentials-"

"-You're a medical doctor," he interrupted. He spouted off my personal information smoothly and naturally. He really does have a crystal mind. Maybe even a photographic memory.

"Do you remember me?" I interrupted now. He looked stung.

"Of course I do," he said softly. His voice was saturated with too many feelings. Too many to measure, record and analyse each one. He hesitated. "Do you remember me?"

"How could I forget *you*, sweetheart?" As soon as the affection left my lips, I could almost see him fall into a trance, re-living that night and the next day. And what he did. He looked lost for a second, maybe even regretful. Then his eyes were clear of the glaze and the moment was gone, disappearing into the passage of time and gradually forgotten about, like everything does, except time itself.

********  
I want you, I don't know if I need you but  
I'd die to find out  
********

Testing Dana Scully turned out to be quite interesting. Because she passed. With flying colours. In fact, she surpassed every test I put her up against in my desperation to find a fault in her. She surpassed intelligence, beauty and body. She *really* surpassed body. As petite as she is, she has a beautiful figure. 

It was that one night in Oregon that she passed that final test, before I completely trusted her with everything in my being. She arrived at my motel room, soaking wet, shivering and enveloped in a soft, cotton robe. My eyes nearly popped out of my sockets when I saw her standing there on my doorstep. Vulnerable. Needing. Helpless. It wasn't until she said, "Can I come in?" that I realised I'd been staring at her quivering face. She turned her back to me and stood still for a moment before she let the robe slip from her shoulders to the ground. Shock does not describe it. Stunned hunger is more accurate. I wanted to take her in my arms and make love to her on the nearby bed. 

Like we should have done15 years ago. Now we're partners-it's not right. It's not protocol. Protocol. The word echoed through my mind. My female partner is standing in my motel room, dripping wet, in her underwear. Is *that* protocol? She caught my eyes and I blushed. I'd been staring again. What can I say? She captivates me. I looked down at her back, where she was gesturing to. I saw the marks immediately and after a second of examining them, and an extra second just to, er, make sure, I reassured her that she was OK. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice almost breaking, almost losing control. But not quite. And then suddenly she was burying her head in my shoulder. She didn't even try to explain why and I didn't want her to. I just wanted to hold on tight, for eternity maybe, but instead I patted her back in a dire attempt to completely reassure her that she was OK. She was alive. And she wasn't going anywhere. At least, not without me. And I'd die to find out where we were going

********  
I will be strong I will be faithful 'cos I'm counting on   
A new beginning.  
A reason for living.   
A deeper meaning.  
********

Mulder bolted upright and blinked his eyes into the darkness before squinting at his watch face. 

"O:13" reflected back to his eyes. He groaned, the night's images swirling around him in a thick, intoxicating clouds. 

He was standing with Scully on a mountain. The stars were shining down on them and for the first time in his life, he felt blessed. Tears glistened in their eyes, but in his dreams, tears never fall. He was pushing her away and she was reaching out for him, but he kept pushing. She was at the cliff's edge and he no longer had any power over his thought processes or his actions. Away. Too close. Away. He gave one final push. And she disappeared over the edge in seemingly slow motion. She was falling, falling away, screaming for help, screaming his name, again and again until he heard her no more. And his tears fell. Then, he knew it was real.

Mulder licked his lips and tasted the salty drops. He was actually crying, weeping for what he'd done. It wasn't realwas it? Guilt filtered into his bloodstream and flowed through his entire body. Why did he push her? Away. He could never have her near enough. He digressed for a second or two, recalling the past few weeks. After the initial awkwardness of their astronomically improbable partnership, they'd worked smoothly together, with an occasional bump here and there. Where he had faults, she was an expert. Where she couldn't fit the last piece, he'd complete the puzzle. They complemented each other, it hadn't taken him long to find that out. But recently, he'd been working alone more often and on occasion, he'd even avoided her. In essence, he *was* pushing her away. Why? 

He punched in her number quickly, mentally reprimanding himself for never bothering with speed-dial. He was sure he was going to collapse if he didn't speak to her within the following ten seconds. He heard the click of her picking up at phone.

"Scully," he gasped immediately, almost out of breath and clutching the phone for dear life.

"Mulder? You OK?" Her voice was of the concerned, but cool variety. He couldn't blame her-the way he'd been acting recently.

"Yes. No. I needed to talk to you."

"Me? Oh what an honour, Mulder. I seem to be the last person you want to talk to lately." He grimaced. He deserved that. But he missed her actual presence in these situations. Her blue eyes glaring at him, the way she angrily pushed her hair behind her ears and cornered him until he gave her an answer. 

"Scully. Meet me at Deepview Hill. In an hour," he said, abruptly, blushing slightly.

"Deepv-Mulder, that's a make-out place!" she said, exasperation threaded through her voice.

"Geez Scully, give me a little credit," he quipped, before placing the phone down. What exactly was he doing? He shrugged and started to pull on a pair of jeans.

He was dressed within minutes, brushed a hand through his hair and was on the road as soon as is humanly possible. He drove at a life-threatening speed for no particular reason, other than the driving force inside of him. Driven by the madness of a dream. What exactly was he going to do? He swerved round another corner, the tires screeching, trying to grip onto the icy road. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and focused on the road.

********  
And when the stars are shining brightly in the velvet sky,  
I'll make a wish send it to heaven then make you want to cry..  
********

Mulder arrived at Deepview Hill fifteen minutes before they had arranged to meet. He stopped the car and got out, momentarily swaying dizzily at the sudden lack of motion before walking slowly up the gentle slope to the barrier, present to protect those who might walk a little too far, distracted by the stunning view. He leant against the barrier and looked up at the millions of stars that lay before him in a velvet blanket. He wondered what secrets each star held, how many guys had claimed the same star for their girl and told her it was hers forever, blissfully unaware that it belonged to hundreds of other guys' girls. He wanted to give Scully a star. He smiled softly, thinking Samantha would be able to reach them a little easier than he could. Samantha. He scanned the depths of the entire silken sky, knowing she was up there, somwhere. Not in heaven though, not yet. He hadn't given up yet. He felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped, automatically reaching for his gun. The redhead before him grinned-a rare sight for Mulder to see. He relaxed his shoulders and leaned against the barrier with one elbow, without breaking eye contact with Scully. She turned away from his intense gaze to look up at the sky.

"I didn't hear your car pull up," he said thoughtfully.

"You looked like you were a million miles away," she said, almost wistfully. He silently wondered if she wanted to be a million miles away. Or maybe just anywhere he wasn't.

"I was thinking about" he trailed off. What exactly was he doing here again?

"So Mulder, what are we doing here exactly?" Her intuition could be opened as an X-file, he mused.

"I had a dream," he started, "and I was here. *We* were here. It was *exactly* like this."

"Mulder-" she warned, sensing "psychic dream phenomenon" to come from my lips any second.

"No, Scully, let me finish. You looked beautiful. Your hair was shining in the moonlight, like it is now," he said, gesturing towards her with a hand, not daring to look at her. "And you were trying to talk to me, but I kept pushing you away. I kept pushing and pushing, until" he licked his lips, dry with apprehension. "And there was no barrier, Scully." He looked up at her with dark, haunted eyes. "And no way to stop. Then before I knew it, you were gone. Away. Plummetingdown there." He finished the last two words, looking down into the black, smoky depths of the cliffside. 

"It was just a dream, Mulder," she said softly, trying to fight off the hurt she could feel seeping into her pores.

"Scully, you have to know thatI wouldn't ever do that."

"I know, Mulder." She smiled, knowing it looked fake.

"Scully, I" He looked frantically for help.

"Forget about it, Mulder. It was a dream," she said impatiently, feeling a little anger slip out in her words.

"Scully!" He grabbed her arm and she flinched from his tight grip. He drew back his arm quickly, as if it had been burnt. "I"

"*What* Mulder? What is it? Do you want to apologise? For which part, exactly? Pushing me off this cliff in a dream? Pushing me away these past few weeks? Or pushing me away 15 years ago?" she said, looking him straight in the eye. He was knocked off his guard. He hadn't been expecting that.

"I don't *want* to push you away, Scully" he said, feebly, "Every" he stumbled over his words at her intense glare. He gently put his hand on her cheek and saw her eyes soften. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came forth. He put his hand on the small of her back and drew her body up against his in a heartbeat. Scully gasped at their suddenly close proximity. He slowly leant towards her. Electricity sparked between their lips and their eyes were locked. Her eyes burned with indecision as his lips moved closer and closer. Suddenly, she slammed her palms into his chest and pushed him with all her might. Shock registered in his eyes and he looked at her sorrowfully.

"Don't even try giving me that look, Mulder! You think I'm just gonna forgive you? Just like that? Well, excuse me if I feel cheapened." Rage beat inside her head and her eyes glistened with angry tears. 

"Scully, can't we start again? A new beginning? Don't I deserve a second chance?" She nodded.

"And I gave you one. But you don't deserve a third chance." She turned and started walking quickly back to her car. 

"Every breath I take, I love you a little bit more," he whispered, but she was already too far away to hear.

She opened the car door and slammed it shut, driving off into the distance before he could take in another breath. And his tears fell.

********  
And we stare each other down like victims in the grind  
Probing all the weakness and hurt still left behind  
And we cry the tears of pearls  
********

Space. She needs space. Mulder looked at the phone again. Call. Don't call. Call. Call. He gave in to his inner voice and picked up the phone. It had only been an hour since their little rendezvous, but by the way they had parted, he was seriously worried about whether she was in a condition to drive. Pickuppickuppickup.

"Scully," she said coolly down the phone line. He shivered, not hearing the slightest quiver of her voice in all two syllables of her name. S-cully. Sc-ully. Scu-lly. Scul-ly. Scull-y. He knew his own voice would quiver whichever way he said it so he chose to avoid her name for the time being.

"Hey...it's me. Mulder?" he started hopefully.

"Yeah, what do you want? I'm really not in the mood to discuss your next intriguing case." He decided to ignore the way she'd subtly stressed "your".

"Actually, I just called to make sure you're OK."

"Why wouldn't I be OK?" she asked defiantly. He paused for a few moments, so she continued impatiently, "Mulder, I'm kinda busy right now so if you could-"

"Busy?" he interrupted. At two in the morning?! He heard her sigh.

"I'm getting dressed." He closed his eyes against the images those three words conjured up in his mind , but it only served to make them even more vivid. 

"Where ya goin'?" he asked as casually as he could.

"Out, Mulder. Socializing. Mixing with other people. Do you remember what that is?" He bit back the hurt by plunging his teeth into his full bottom lip. Blood seeped out from the fresh wound and he licked it away, tasting the copper-sweet liquid.

"Uh, yeah. I remember. Eidetic memory," he said lightly.

"Bye, Mulder," she finished with an accompanying "click". He gazed down at the plastic receiver, begging it to bring her voice back. The steady hum of the dial tone was the only reply to his request.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scully pushed open the door of the bar and eyed up the contents. Loud, heavy music and thick clouds of smoke weighed down the air. A long, well-stocked bar stretched down the centre of the room, surrounded by booths filled with entwined couples and groups of drinking men. She was sure she was the only solo female in the entire place and judging by the way the men were leering at her, that wouldn't be for too long. She slowly approached the bar and the bartender looked up expectantly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder racked the brains to recall all the 24-hour bars in Scully's vicinity. He couldn't let her get drunk, what if something happened to her? It'd be his fault. If he turned up at the bar, imagining himself to be her knight in shining armour, she'd be furious, he knew. But he also knew, hoped, she'd be grateful later. Come on, Mulder. Don't let all that FBI training go to waste. Find a clue, Sherlock. The only place he could think to go to was Scully's apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scully gazed down at the red liquid swirling in the glass. She couldn't even remember what she was drinking. Red wine? Maybe a cocktail? She giggled at nothing in particular, the alcohol already beginning to affect her usually sensible mind. She gazed around the smoky bar. Or maybe I lost my senses before I even arrived here. She gulped down the last of the unidentified red liquid and glared ferociously at the small, empty bottle in front of her.

"Can I buy you another drink?" a deep voice from the left asked her. She swung her head around to the direction of his voice and brought her vision to focus on a handsome face. She gave him a slurred smile and nodded dreamily.

"I'm Tom," he said.

"I'm Scu-lleee....but *you* can call me Day-na!" she said happily.

"OK, Dana. You wanna have some Tequila?" Scully searched her distorted memory to recall how much she'd already drunk but drew a blank.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder pushed open the door to the fourth bar. He'd already been to Scully's apartment and found her car still sitting its parking place. That had narrowed down the number of bars she could've gone to, given the amount of time it would take to walk any further than those four bars. He only hoped she hadn't done something worse or more stupid than go drinking, but was rewarded when he saw the back of her smooth crown of red hair.

********  
Is love really the tragedy the way you might describe?  
Or would a thousand lovers still leave you cold inside?  
********

She ran her tongue over the salt before taking yet another shot of tequila. She vaguely felt Tom's hand sliding dangerously down her neck but his touch seemed distant, as if it wasn't really there, so she ignored it. 

"You're gorgeous Dana," he whispered softly into her ear. He sounded so sure of himself, so controlled. She wondered how that was possible after so-o many tequilas. She looked down at the small glasses sitting in one long row. Exactly how many of those are his? She was distracted from her calculations by a blurry, dark figure approaching her and her...toucher. She giggled at her definition of Tom and the man who was now becoming clearer gave her a strange look. Mulder?!!

"You got a problem?" Tom said loudly to the dark figure hovering next to Scully.

"Yeah. Get your hand off her." Tom looked momentarily taken aback, before standing up menacingly. The two men were of equal height, Scully noted gleefully.

"Tommy!" she started and attempted to get to her feet. She stumbled and fell forwards, towards the floor. Mulder lunged forward and grabbed her waist to sit her back down carefully. For a single second, their eyes locked and Mulder felt secure again. 

"Tommy," Scully said, breaking their eye contact, "this is Mul-*der*. Fo-Fo... Mulder." Mulder glanced worriedly at her inability to remember his name.

"Scully-come on, let's go," he said softly to her. Anger surged through her veins and she got to her feet defiantly. The room swayed around her but she managed to stay vertical. "Scully..." he warned.

"*No*!" she yelled and slapped his face. She felt the burning in her palm instantaneously.   
  
********  
All these mixed emotions we keep locked away like stolen pearls  
Stolen pearl devotions we keep locked away from all the world  
Your kisses are like pearls, so different and so rare  
But anger stole the jewels away and love has left you bare  
********

Mulder thought she might react badly to his insistence that they leave but he certainly hadn't expected her to slap him. His cheek was burning hot, but the pain soon subsided, leaving a slight tingling sensation. He took a deep breath but Scully started speaking before he could.

"Why should I go with *you*, Mulder?" she asked loudly. He noticed they now had the attention of the entire room. Evidently, she noticed too, because she addressed the entire room with her next declaration.

"He tried to fuck me tonight!" A little gasp went up through the room and Mulder distinctly heard the word "rape" pass between a few people. He looked at Scully with a horrified expression.

"What?! Scully, I would never-"

"I ain't stupid, sweetheart," Scully drawled.

"I just wanted to talk to you," Mulder said sincerely, while taking on a pleading tone and trying to ignore her new-found Southern drawl. Tom sniggered, breaking his previous silence. Mulder resisted the urge to make Tom eat his fist and just glared in reply to the snigger.

"Yeah, *that's* why you were lowering your lips towards mine," Scully said confidently and a little too loudly for Mulder. He cringed inwardly at the remaining trace of a drawl in her voice and vowed to get her out of this hell-hole as soon as possible.

"Let's get out of here and we can talk." She looked at him doubtfully. "*Just* talk." She surprised him by nodding, but he recovered quickly and guided her away from the bar with his hand placed softly and carefully on her lower back. Tom slumped back into his seat defeatedly.

********  
We twist and turn where angels burn  
Like fallen soldiers we will learn  
That once forgotten, twice removed  
Love will be the death...  
The death of you  
*******

Mulder chose not to tell her he had driven there, so they could talk as they walked back to her apartment. The cold air sobered her a bit and her body suddenly recognised the temperature in comparison to her skimpy dress. She shivered slightly and tried to cover her petite body with her arms. Within seconds, Mulder's jacket was around her shoulders and she smiled slightly up at him. Flashbacks of Deepview Hill entered her mind and once again, anger surged through her. She stopped, ripped the jacket from her shoulders and threw it to the ground. 

"Fuck you, Mulder!" They stared at each other, both feeling like victims, both feeling beaten and worn down. "You think you can just fix everything with a few words or a *jacket*," she looked down disgustedly at the leather jacket lying in a crumpled heap on the ground, "or a kiss." He looked down at his shoes, torn between love and hate, desire and pain.

"What *will* fix everything?"

"Mulder, I can't even tell whether you have two or four eyes, never mind solve the mysteries and complexities of our relationship." He grinned a little at her, then touched his still tingling face. Pain tore through him again. 

"Scully, I-"

"Please don't say anything, Mulder. After I've been drunk, I," she stopped and smiled at a few college memories, "can't remember anything. By tomorrow, none of this will ever have happened...to me. I'll know I went out and I'll probably remember talking to you, *talking* to Tommy..." His eyes narrowed into slits at the mere mention of the other man's name. "But I won't remember details, so let's just talk in the morning." He gazed into her sparkling blue eyes, dulled only slightly by the alcohol.

"Can we lose nine minutes, Scully?"

"What?"

"For the next nine minutes...can we just pretend the world has stopped?"  
"I don't-"

"There's some stuff I want, *need*, to tell you Scully," he pleaded to her.

"So tell me in the morning," she replied fiercely.

"Scully," he grabbed her hand and attention, "I'm only asking for nine minutes. 530 seconds." She lost herself in the beautiful brown eyes that were staring desperately into hers, begging for a chance. A chance to know, to love and then to forget. His eyes told her that nothing else mattered, that he didn't want anything else-just this chance. A chance for them. If only for nine minutes.

"As of now, Mulder," she said, glancing at her watch, "the world stops." 

********  
Put time in a capsule  
Two minds consensual  
Entwinded to pefection  
If we could...  
********

Every second that passes is significant to somebody. This second is somebody's moment of glory while the next is somebody's time to die. Rise and fall is the continual circle of life and so rarely does somebody have 530 seconds of glory. 530 invisible seconds. Forgotten time, but forever preserved in my much appreciated eidetic memory. Forever forgotten in her alcohol-saturated one. She looks up into my eyes and time really does stop.

"We're wasting precious seconds, Mulder," she says quietly, but with a small smile.

"Any second I spend with you isn't a waste," I reply sincerely. She jerks her head away in surprise.

"I really wish I could remember that one," she whispers. This is actually awkward. I'm with the one person in the world I feel completely comfortable with and I feel awkward. If we finally get nine minutes for ourselves, they shouldn't be awkward ones.

"Come on, Scully," I grab her hand.

"Mulder!" she squeals and giggles, "Where are we going?!" Only a drunk Scully would squeal and giggle.

"To your apartment. Run and we can make it there in less than two minutes!" She stops suddenly. Dread runs through me. Does she want to forget it? Am I going to far? She takes off her shoes; strappy sandals. 

"Can't run in these," she says in reply to my worried face, "Calm down, Mulder. I want these nine minutes just as much as you."

"Then let's spend them somewhere warm," I say with relief and start to pull her towards her apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I almost laughed at his face when I stopped to take off my shoes. God knows what he was thinking. I am grateful for this time, short as it may be, to just indulge in freedom. Freedom from memories, pain, protocol. Freedom with Mulder. He'll still know these nine minutes tomorrow, but I won't. I'm almost happy to be the one to forget. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. I won't have the pain of knowing how it could be. If we were free. Every action is coated with a surreal quality. A giggle, a squeal, a laugh, linked hands, tender stares, all locked away in the passage of time, only to be remembered by Mulder. We've reached my apartment now and time seems to be slipping away so quickly. I sprint up the stairs with the eagerness of a little girl coming home after a long vacation. 

"Eager are we now, Miss.Scully?" I glare down at him from the top of the stairs and he quickly follows me up. At the door I stop and place my hands on his shoulders. He jerks at the unfamiliar contact, but his eyes continue burning into mine. 

"Mulder, whatever happens in the next," I look at my watch, "seven minutes, don't tell me in the morning." Confusion in his eyes is quickly replaced with understanding. He knows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door is the only remaining barrier and that is why she chooses now to tell me, before we cross the line. "Whatever happens in the next seven minutes, don't tell me in the morning." Realisation hits me: She doesn't want to know, it's just a fling to her. But then I look into her eyes and I know. It's not that she doesn't want to know, she just doesn't want the pain of knowing. Of knowing how it could be. Knowledge is power, but it's also pain. Ignorance is naivety, but it's also bliss. For once in her life, Dana Scully doesn't want to know. She doesn't want to know past this night. I accept it and almost appreciate it, appreciate her. 

"I promise. I won't tell you. It'll be my dirty little secret." She laughs and opens the door without any more hesitation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I push open the door and turn round. Suddenly, I am engulfed by Mulder and I find myself crying into his shirt. He releases me and tips my chin up with two fingers,

"Scully! What's wrong? Do you want me to go?" More than anything, I just want to kiss him for being so sweet and sensitive, but I don't. Not yet-it's not time yet.

"No!" I cry, "No, Mulder. I get over-emotional when I'm drunk."

"You just don't *sound* drunk...are you *sure* you're drunk?"

"Mulder, do I usually cry in front of you?"

"Scully, do we usually lose nine minutes?" I smile in reply and a tear falls down my cheek, betraying my happiness.

"No, but still, I'm not the crying type. Even in *unusual* situations." I know I'm still drunk because I'm not worrying about repurcussions or protocol. I'm crying. I feel like giggling. Yeah, I'm definitely still drunk. Time feels like it's slipping away again. I look at my watch.

"How long do we have?"

"Five and a half minutes," I reply ruefully.

"Why did I pick *nine* minutes? Why not *fifty*-nine minutes?"

"Uh-uh," I say, shaking my head, "you can't change your mind now." 

"You know, it's funny, Scully, almost ironic. We get to do whatever we want with each other for nine minutes and we *talk* and we don't even *talk* talk. We're making small talk!" The truth of his words stabs deep into my core. 

"Well, what else would we do?" I reply with an innocent smile.

"You should tell me stuff you normally wouldn't," he replies with an equally innocent grin.

"Uh, *no*. You should tell me stuff *you* normally wouldn't."

"OK," he replies nervously and I cross my arms in anticipation, "How about I love you, Scully'?" My heart stops beating. When I finally manage to drag oxygen into my lungs again, I take a shaky breath.

********  
Well I'd like to take you as I find you  
Imagine our clothes are on the floor  
Feel my caress so soft and gentle  
So delicate you cry for more  
********

I think she's going to have a heart attack. Or maybe I love you, Scully' has completely sobered her up. If that's the case, we're both in deep trouble cause then she'll remember this tomorrow. 

"Uh, Scully?" Damnit, my voice is quivering.

"I was hoping for something a little more helpful," she replies.

"Some oxygen?" She giggles. Giggles? Oh, she's still drunk.

"Yeah, something like that," she whispers, looking up at me with blue ocean eyes. When she looks at me like that, I feel like I'm the one needing oxygen. I feel like she can see my soul and interpret every glance, every touch, every smile. I feel like I'm in love. What is love anyway? Love is closing your eyes and only seeing one person's face. Love is hearing one person's voice when you do something you know you shouldn't. Love is feeling so emotionally entwined with one person, when she dies, you die with her. Love is valuing every second you spend with one person so much that each second is too short and gone too quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time is passing by. These precious seconds are fleeting and disappear quickly before we truly have time to appreciate them. I feel like a bomb slowly ticking towards Ground Zero and when time is finally up, I will shatter into a million fragments and cease to exist forever. Yet, as these precious seconds pass, we stand completely still. He is looking at me with such wonder and his eyes show such depth that I'm curious to know what he's thinking. But I don't ask. It would break the intense magnetism growing between our faces, built-up by desire, freedom and temptation. I look at my watch again, it's becoming an addiction.

"We only have-"

"Shh," he whispers, brushing one index finger over my lips. That slightest contact sends shivers down my spine and I almost tremble. I pray he doesn't notice my intense reaction to his touch. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am shaken to the core when my finger touches her lips-beautiful, full, soft lips I ache to press into my own. But it's not time. Where is time? Quickly disappearing. I know we only have perhaps half a minute left, but it is inconsequential now. This invisible time faded into reality around the "I love you, Scully", for me anyway. Saying the words made me float, made me fall, made me want to sing, made me want to cry. In my paradoxical thoughts, I can only find one constant-I want to hold her. I grasp her hand and tug it gently. She tilts her head in question to where we are going and I answer with a wink towards the bedroom. She tilts her head the other way, this time conveying disapproval. I shake my head and smile softly. No, Scully-I just want to hold you. But the words don't make it past my lips. The silence is somehow touching and the ease of our unspoken communication is almost evolutionary in its simplicity. We are in her bedroom now and privately I smile at the immaculate furnishings and freshly made bed. 

*********  
Cuddle up close  
Lay your head on my chest now  
Listen my heart beat's coming down  
If you get tired you close your eyes now  
When you wake up I won't be found  
*********

As soon as I see my bed, I am instantly felt tired and sleep begins to pull my eyes shut. As my eyes begin to droop, Mulder puts one arm around my back, the other beneath my knees and before I know what he's doing, I am in his arms, floating towards the bed. I begin to giggle again, instantly feeling twenty years younger and Mulder smiles down at me with the most tender expression I have ever seen grace a man's face. He sets me down on the bed with great care, as if I am extremely delicate. I gaze dreamily up at him, something I would never, ever allow myself to do in ordinary circumstances, in real time. It strikes me how easily I have slipped into completely believing, believing that these nine minutes really were invisible, believing that none of this would have any repurcussions, believing in us. 

"Uh-uh, Scully," he says, shaking his head at me before closing my eyes with two fingers, "You're not allowed to gaze at me like that. The nine minutes are finished." His last word hits me hard and I open my eyes sharply. I realize that they really are finished and soon my memory of the events that have transpired over the last few hours will be too. I will only remember Deepview Hill...and being angry with him. "I'm sorry, Mulder," I whisper and close my eyes to stop the tears from falling.  
  
********  
You will only end up lost in lonliness  
And wake up with the words already on your lips  
So I'll let you go, baby  
So I'll let you go...  
********

She sleeps so soundly now, like I have seen her sleep many times, but this time it's different. As she sleeps and dissolves into a dreaming peace, her memories dissolve too. I brush a tendril of hair from her face and squeeze her a little tighter to silently say goodbye. After she fell asleep, I carefully slipped my arms around her without waking her up. I want to see her wake up though. I want to be the last thing she sees before she closes her eyes and the first thing she sees when she opens them again. Maybe I want to be what she sees in the time inbetween too. I slide off the bed and in sad departure kiss my fingers and place them on her cheek for a moment. She shifts her sleeping positionn and the moment is gone. As am I.

*********  
You're never safe 'till you see the dawn  
And if the clock strikes past midnight  
The hope is gone  
To move under...  
*********

Scully opened her eyes slowly, gradually adjusting to the sunlight streaming in through the window. As soon as her blurry vision became more focused, she felt the pain lance through her head and groaned, the familiar feeling of a hangover becoming apparent. She laid her head back down on the pillow and stretched her memory back to the last thing she could remember from the night before. Deepview Hill. Anger. She remembered that all too clearly. She dug her fingernails into the bed in fury. Red liquid. Blood? No, thinner...swirling. It made no sense at all and she closed her eyes in frustration. Floating....floating? Two fingerprints burned into her cheek. She touched her face gingerly, but found no marks or residual pain. Time. She opened her eyes in alarm and looked at her watch. 10:22. 10:22. 10:22. The numbers went through her brain a few times before they finally registered.

"WORK!" she yelled to the empty room. "I have to get to work!" Quickly escalating into a panic, she jumped out of bed. The room swayed around her and she fought to stay upright. She looked down at herself and noticed that she was fully clothed. Even more confused, she stumbled across the room towards the door, but dizziness captured her and pulled her towards the floor. She could feel herself falling, falling into those smoky black depths where Mulder had pushed her. Her head hit the ground with a thump and even more pain spread through it. The incredible pain obscured all her thoughts, except for one: Must Kill Mulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder continued to stare up at the ceiling, his thoughts inevitably and permanently focused on Scully and how much she hated him after the events on Deepview Hill the previous night. As beautiful as the time *after* that had been, it had indeed been invisible time and any forgiveness he had been granted in those nine minutes were of no importance now as she could not remember giving it-and she would not be given the opportunity to remember it. That was his gift to her. There were so many things he wanted to give her-happiness, pleasure, love. Only now did he have the knowledge that she could give all those things back to him, three times stronger. He'd had a glimpse of it the previous night, or rather, the early hours of the morning and he desperately craved more. He wanted to hear her laughter, touch her lips, be lost in her gaze once again. But he couldn't, he never could. Even the short freedom they'd been given only a few hours ago wasn't really there--that time didn't exist any more than his dreams did. Tears sprung to his eyes and the ache spreading through his soul claimed him, dragging him into the dark depths of sleep and allowing him to dream once more. A solitary tear rolled gently down his cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scully opened her eyes and felt the seemingly familiar feeling of lost time. She glared at her watch and 10:31 glared back at her. She'd been unconscious for nine minutes. Nine minutes. Little words and images kept flashing in her mind, as if they were trying to jog her subconscious's into remembering something. Red, swirling liquid. Floating. Two fingerprints burned into her cheek. And now, nine minutes. Of course, nine minutes is the length of time abductees allegedly lose. She mentally kicked herself for nearly believing that the random images actually meant something other than her disorientated brain clutching onto numbers and words and feelings she'd experienced in the past. Feeling reassured and mentally revitalised, she picked up the phone and dialled Mulder's office number. On receiving no answer, she became more infuriated and dialled his home number. On the 5th ring, just as she was about to hang up in complete fury, he picked up. Before he could even ask who it was, she said coldly,

"Why aren't you at work?"

"Sc-sc-ully?" His voice quivered.

"Why aren't you at work?" she repeated, more forcefully.

"Well, um, it's a Sunday." She resented the way he spoke slowly as if he was speaking to a child. She paused, trying to think of a cutting retort. "Are you OK, Scully?" he asked softly, rudely interrupting her thoughts.

"Does it *sound* like I'm OK?" 

"I don't think...maybe you should cool down, Dana, and-"

"It's Scully," she interrupted heavily, with obvious anger.

"OK, Scully. I'll speak to you tomorrow."

"Unfortunately," she spat back and slammed down the phone before she could hear another word from him. Victorious at having said the last word, she walked towards the kitchen with her head held high.

********  
The stars and planets taking shape  
A stolen kiss has come to late  
********

He stared down at the phone his shaking hands held. He'd heard her being angry before but he'd never heard her intoxicated with such...fury before. He was truly shaken by the violence of her tone. The phone dropped to the floor as his head dropped into his hands. He kissed the two fingers that had touched her cheek in silent goodbye that morning. His skin tasted bitter. He missed her already.

He was back on the mountain. She was there too and still angry by the look on her face. He wanted to kiss away her frown. He leaned towards her slowly, so slowly. The tips of his fingers brushed the back of her neck. Their lips moved closer and closer, nearly touching. Suddenly, a force slammed into his chest-her palms. And he was over the edge and falling, falling, falling. Two words reverberated around him, strangling him, swallowing him, consuming him. Too late. Too late. Too late. He kept falling. Suddenly, all was still again. Positive he was going to open his eyes to see the menacing face of the devil staring back at him, he was surprised to see Scully. She was holding his hands, but just barely-their fingers were loosely linked. They were swaying from side to side and when he strained his ears, he could hear soft music humming from the horizon. He was suddenly aware that their bodies had moved closer, so close. She was standing on her tip-toes, pushing her face close to his. A bell rang through the air and she widened her eyes and pulled away. 

"Wha-?" he gasped.

"It's too late, Mulder. Look," she pointed at her watch, "It's midnight. It's too late. Too late. Too late." Her voice encircled him faster and faster until he felt dizzy. He closed his eyes. And she was gone. But the bell continued to ring. He picked up his alarm clock and threw it on the ground in fury. The annoying, repetitive sound retreated into a broken wail. He looked down at the smashed screen of the clock and groaned. Now he actually had to face Scully. He didn't know whether to run and hide or jump with joy. So he got dressed.

********  
There's a magic only two can tell  
In the dark night  
Ultra violet is a wicked spell  
********

She glared at the door, which still lacked a nameplate declaring, "Dana Scully" and opened the door to the basement office without her usual preceding knock. He was there already. Of course he was there already, no matter how early she tried to get in, he always had to get in first. Does he sleep here or something?', she thought sullenly. 

"Good morning Scully!" The jerk sounded almost cheerful.

"*Good* morning?" she repeated him in a heavier tone. He nodded emphatically in reply. She sunk into her chair and muttered, "Sure. *Fine*. Whatever."

And so it really was forgotten. Events are forever locked away in the passage of time, some remembered, some forgotten. Scully would always remember the night on the mountain with hate and try to forget and Mulder would always remember their nine minutes of freedom with love and try to keep every second recorded in his memory. However they remember the past, they continue to watch each other in a never-ending dance to entrancing music with a beat they were only beginning to understand.

********  
Let your body move into the doorway  
To the disco inside your head (Violet)  
Wear a color that you want to cling to  
The color inside your head (Violet)  
********

It was two months after that night and Fox Mulder still hadn't forgotten it. Murderers were caught, cases were solved and reports were written, but the memory was still fresh in his mind. Sometimes he would stare at her from across the office until she snapped him out of his reverie. But he couldn't explain; he'd promised. Sometimes he would kiss his fingers in silent memory. But he couldn't kiss her; he'd promised. And sometimes he would cry, not an ocean, just a drop or two of salty sadness trickling down his cheek until he brushed them away. But he couldn't tell her. However, time was healing the hole gauged in his heart. Until that day...

He was just flicking through a new case that had landed on his desk that morning and starting to build a theory to present to Scully when she came in. He heard a sharp knock on the door and somebody come in. He didn't even have to look up, he knew it was her. He could tell by the way she had knocked, the way she always knocked before entering their office in the morning. It was slightly different to the way she knocked on Skinner's door and different from the way she knocked on the door of the house of a person we were about to question. It was her Morning Knock and he almost cherished hearing the reassuring sound at the start of each day. 

"You know Scully, we've been partners for...a long time now, you really don't have to-" he stopped speaking when he looked up. She was wearing a sharply-cut suit that hugged her hips and stopped inches above her knees, daring the FBI dress code. It wasn't the length of the skirt however that had grabbed Mulder's attention, it was the color. It was the most beautiful shade of purple he had ever seen, which could only be described as Violet. A deep, intense, electrifying, but subtle, violet. Scully. My violet. He wasn't sure whether he'd said it aloud or not and his heart started to beat a little too fast at the possibility that she heard him.

"What did you say, Mulder?"

"Nothing!" he snapped, keeping his head bowed down.

"*Fine*," she replied heavily and slammed her bag on the desk. He recoiled slightly and inside, he wept. Keeping secrets is painful, but keeping promises is worse. It had been gnawing at his heart until he wasn't sure he even had one anymore. He'd thought he was getting over it, but obviously-

"Mulder, will you quit staring at me?"

"Sorry, Scully. I was just thinking about this case. Have you checked the autopsy notes thoroughly enough?"

"Yes. Mulder. I. Have. Checked. Them. Repeatedly," she replied, her voice slow and filled with labour, like a teenage girl reassuring her mother she'd brought an extra sweater in her bag. He nodded a little and bowed his head back down. Looking at her face made him ache. Tears threatened to fall, so he quickly excused himself to go to the bathroom. Scully stared at his quickly departing form with worry.

********  
You want to give ecstay delivered with certainty  
But you're afraid that the pleasure won't be needed  
In a way, we're the same two people looking out to sea  
For a wave that would carry all our fantasies  
*********

He rested his head against the cubicle door; the cool surface was refreshing for his burning forehead. He pressed his palms onto the door and traced patterns down the surface with two fingers. Deep inside his own thoughts, he missed the bathroom door opening and closing. 

After a few minutes, he reluctantly withdrew his forehead from the door and flicked the door lock open. As soon as he opened the door and stepped out of the cubicle, he was greeted by a vision of Scully leaning against the tiled wall. Before he could even splutter out some kind of surprised comment, she begun to speak,

"Mulder. What's wrong?" 

"What's *wrong*?! You're in the male toilets, Scully!"

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"No, actually I don't. Why don't you tell me?"

"No! *You* tell me. What is wrong with you today? *Every* day lately, but *especially* today," she spoke calmly, but with an edge of anger. Her hands were on her hips- delicate hands that looked pale against the vivid color of her new suit. 

"I'm fi-"

"Fine," she finished for him, "No, Mulder, *I'm* fine. That's my line. You're not."

"Not what?"

"Fine!" she reiterated, clearly exasperated.

"I'm not the one with mild amnesia," he said coldly.

"Amnesia?! What is that supposed to mean?"

"You've forgotten how it was," he replied, tears beginning to form in his eyes. Her voice softened a little,

"How it was when?"

"Forget I said anything Scully. You forget everything else. It obviously didn't mean as much to you as it did to me." She stared at him and he stormed out of the door, away from her. But not before she saw a tear slide down his cheek. Not before hot tears began to fall from her own eyes. She took in a deep breath and let the air whisper past her lips to form his name. 

********  
Common sense is a game many people don't like to play  
But give it in and the moment takes you either way  
********

He didn't go back down to the basement, but kept walking and walking until he was at the main entrance of the Hoover Building. He pushed open the doors and kept walking, down the stairs, walking and walking away from the building, the bathroom, her. Walking away from himself. When he left her, he left himself and he knew that. He could see everything more clearly to study and analyze the situation. He kept walking. After countless minutes, maybe an hour, two hours, three hours, he came to a conclusion. It was his fault. Self-inflicting rage burned within him. A flurry of colors fleetingly passed his line of vision and he raised his ashamed head. He quickly walked towards the small shop that had caught his attention. He could barely get to the door with all the flowers obscuring his path, but he made his way through them and opened the door. The jingle of bells above the door greeted him and he took in his surroundings. 

"Can I help you, sir?" a girl of about sixteen at the counter asked, flashing a perfect row of white teeth at him.

"Yeah. I think."

"What kinda flower do you want?" she asked, snapping gum when she paused, "Roses? Lilies?" She paused to snap more gum and he took the opportunity to interrupt,

"A violet."

"*One* violet?" she asked incredulously. He nodded and she shrugged, reaching down to the floor and placing a bunch of violets onto the counter. "Take your pick." He looked carefully at all the flowers, his brown eyes scrutinizing each one. The girl rolled her eyes, but he was too preoccupied in his scrutiny of the flowers to notice, so she let out a dramatic sigh. He took the hint and selected a single flower. 

"How much'll it be?"

"It's on the house," she replied, almost laughing at the man's bewildered expression.

"Do you do a delivery service?" She groaned in reply. "I'll take that as a Yes," he said. She nodded and handed him a piece of paper and a pen.

"Just write down the address of the desired recipient."

"Desired?" he asked, his voice raising an octave. She was confused at his suddenly wide eyes.

"Ya know, the desired recipient. The recipient you wish to receive the flower."

"Oh, right. Yeah." He jotted down an address and handed it back to her. Her eyes flickered over the unfamiliar name scrawled on the paper.

"Here's $5. Call it a tip," he grinned at her, throwing the coins on the counter, "Go buy yourself some more gum." From any other person, she would have taken offence in that casual comment, but not this particularly handsome customer. She snapped her gum once more in reply and waved her fingers in a goodbye. He opened the door and as she heard the familiar jingle of the bells, she looked down at the scrawled address in her hands and wondered how "Miss. Scully" got so lucky.

********  
I've got a dream to take you over  
Exploding like a supernova  
I'm going to crash into your world  
And that's no lie  
********

The following day, Mulder went down to the basement at his usual early hour, expecting to find the office empty as it always was at 7am. However, he opened the door with a nameplate proclaiming "Fox Mulder" to find another person sitting at the desk. Scully. 

"Morning Mulder," she said, glancing up at him briefly.

"Morning Scully. You're in early."

"Yeah. What happened to you yesterday?" she asked carefully, looking up at him again, her eyes lingering on him a little longer than before.  
"I just went for a walk," he replied casually.

"Oh," she said, equally casually. The almost disinterested syllable sounded strange to Mulder's ears and he looked up at her to examine her face for more clues as to her true feelings. A flower resting in a slim, glass vase on her desk caught his attention. A violet. His violet. Her violet. Their violet.

"That's a pretty flower, Scully," he said quietly.

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled softly at him. The small gesture lit up his world. Then he knew that the flower lying on her desk wasn't his violet, she was. He smiled back.

*********  
So you're the kind that deals with the games in the mind  
Well you confuse me in a way that I've never known  
You confuse me in a way that I've never known  
*********

I gaze at her from across the office. Sometimes I think I know her so well-then I mentally slap myself for being so arrogant. Sometimes I don't think I know her at all. Like right now. A slight smile is daring to play upon her lips and she looks ready to give into temptation and spread her mouth into an actual grin.

"Mulder," her voice startles me, "You don't socialize much, do you? Within the FBI, I mean." 

She must have noticed my scrutinizing gaze and finally come to the ultimate, blinding, earth-shattering revelation. Fox Mulder Is A Loser.

"Uh, no. Not really."

"Oh," she says, her beautiful mouth forming a perfect "O" shape. I want to stride across the office and make her mouth contort into other shapes. My stomach twists into knots and I'm surprised I can still breathe.

"Why?" I ask, my eyes flitting briefly from her mouth back to her eyes and to the computer screen, where they should be.

"Well," she starts, that smile playing with her lips again, in a constant battle between Professional Scully and Giggling Dana. She almost looks like an 8th grader about to ask out her 10th grade crush. "I thought you might know which guy has a big enough crush on me to send me a flower," she said, her eyes gesturing to the withered violet still remaining on her desk, the words spilling from her mouth, cascading down on my ears to shock me. She doesn't know I sent it. 

"Scully, I-" I look up from my sudden shyness and her gaze penetrates into my heart. "-have no idea." A sigh escapes her mouth, which has formed into a innocently sultry pout.

"Oh," she says again. I really think she's trying to kill me.

********  
I never thought I'd change my opinion again  
But you moved me in a way that I've never known  
********

"I have no idea." He didn't send it. Another piece of my heart falls and smashes on the ground.

"Oh," I say again. He is looking at the computer screen with half-shut eyes. I think my monosyllabic words are boring him to death. My gaze moves away from his eyes to run over the rest of his profile, desperately trying to burn his face into my memory for eternity, in case he ever dares to slip away from this life. Nothing could be worse than never being able to see his face again. My eyes focus onto his lips, which have formed an endearing pout that I ache to kiss. My breath escapes from my lungs and momentarily, I can't live. Can't breathe. I can only feel. And he's killing me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes move from her lips down her figure, barely accentuated through her professionally-cut suit. Does she never want to look at me like this? Maybe I'm not her type. Maybe she prefers tattoo-covered, homicidal psychopaths like Ed Jerse. Maybe I'm not dangerous enough for her. Images of me being held at gunpoint, fighting with colonozing shape-shifters and lying, covered with cuts and bruises in hospital beds flash in my mind and I quickly scrap that idea. Maybe she just doesn't find me attractive. Then why does sexual tension spark between us like electricity? Maybe that's only in my mind. Does she ever feel it too? Does she ever want to press her body into mine until that ache of tension between us is finally dulled to a bare hum? Does she ever want to meld our bodies together and let the waves of pleasure crash over us, bringing us up to the heights of passion and gently back down again to rest, cradling in each others arms? Does she ever want to make love to me for hours until she lies exhausted on my bed, licking all the salty sweat from my body? Does she ever want anything? I only hope this everlasting dance of temptation and resistance is killing her too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have seen Mulder naked before. Curled up in a ball, steam rising up around him, as the water slapped down on his back. He was in shock then. I glanced at his form once, maybe twice, but I was too preoccupied with the numb look of shock settling on his face, shutting down his senses and chilling me to the core. I cared from him then and I care for him now. I even cared for him in a bar 15, 16, 17 years ago. I thought I stopped caring when I knocked on his office door for the first time, but one look at his beautifully unique face and I was proven wrong. I don't think I'll ever stop caring for this man-I don't know how to stop caring for him. Caring for Mulder is a feast he only allows me to indulge in when he is at his most weak, his most broken. Sometimes I want him to be beaten by the shadowy conspiracy that lurks around every corner. Then maybe his hardened soul would finally break and melt into my arms, never to leave again. But right now, he's strong. He chews on a pencil, eyes focused on the computer screen as his brilliant mind works to solve whatever puzzle he's studying. Meanwhile, the last piece of my heart falls and I can almost hear the piercing sound echoing around the room as it hits the floor. I only hope the sound of his own heart finally falling kills him too.

********  
God don't you know I live with a ton of regret?  
'Cause I used to move you in a way that you've never known  
But then I accused you in a way that you've never known  
But you hurt me in a way that I've never known...  
********

Some part deep within me whispers that she loves me too. The same part that recorded each and every moment of every second of nine minutes not so long ago. Another part is rolling off reasons that explain what I saw in her eyes in those nine minutes as alcohol or just a deceiving reflection of what she saw in my own eyes. Or that I mis-read her feelings. Another part is screaming at me to ask her about it. Ask her about it all; all the questions. Was it true what I saw in her eyes so short, yet so long, ago? That part is by far the loudest and the most tempting. I have almost obeyed that part thousands of times, before I calmly remind my hysterically screaming conscience that I promised her I would never tell her about those nine minutes. Promised, promised, promised. I repeat the words to myself in a silent mantra, chewing on my pencil to stop myself from screaming the words aloud. To stop myself from telling my promise to go fuck itself. Or to at least go and fill the empty space the absence of my heart has created.

But I can feel my stubborn promise slowly chipping away and becoming weaker. Maybe one day, it will be weak enough that it won't argue with me anymore. Maybe it's weak enough now. Maybe one day, I'll tell her. Maybe I'll tell her now. 

********  
We stumble in a tangled web, decaying friendships almost dead  
And hide behind a mask of lies  
We twist and turn and we avoid, all hope of salvage now devoid  
I see the truth inside your eyes  
********

Silence has descended upon the office. Most of the time, silence is a   
blessing respite from Mulder's over-worked mouth. Today, however, it   
seems stifling. It's as if unsaid words are floating in the air.   
Floating. Sometimes certain words strike me and I get a strange   
feeling of deja-vu. I smile to myself. Mulder would love to hear   
that.

"Scully, you don't drink much, do you?"

I *knew* he couldn't let that "Mulder, you don't socialize much, do   
you" comment pass without some kind of retort.

"I'm not exactly a heavy drinker, but I don't mind the odd glass of   
red wine."

"Tell me about it," he sniggered. OK, Mulder, you have my attention,   
I reply silently with a raised eyebrow.

"And what is *that* supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he says, looking at me with big, innocent eyes. I frown   
and drum my fingernails on the table. I press random letters on the   
keyboard. I tap my foot on the floor. 

"Mulder..." I start, with a warning tone in my voice.

"What's the time, Scully?" The man is driving me crazy.

"3:28," I reply through clenched teeth.

"Oh really?" he says with a smile hidden beneath is firmly-set jaw. 

"Yes, Mulder. It's 3:28. 3. 2. 8," I snap.

"That's funny. I make it," he glances at his watch, "3:37. 3. 3. 7." 

I glare at his mocking tone and over-pronunciation of the last three   
numbers.

"Yeah, well you operate on a different time zone from the rest of us,   
Mulder."

"No..." he stretches out the word slowly, "I think you've lost nine   
minutes somewhere, Scully." I look up at him with an amused   
expression.

"I don't think I need to make an appearance in the X-files a third   
time, Mulder."

"I don't think it's an X-file," he says with a thoughtful expression.

"God, Mulder, you're weird today!" At that, he shuts up and pretends   
to work again. Silence descends upon us once more.

*********  
Time manipulates your heart, preconceptions torn apart  
Begin to doubt my state of mind  
But I won't go down on what I said  
I won't retract convictions read  
I may perplex, but I'm not blind  
********

So much for Scully the Sharp Investigator. I'm dropping hints like   
crazy and all she can say is, "You're weird today." My frown deepens.   
Maybe she's subconsciously pushing back the memories because she   
doesn't want to know. Because she doesn't want to know I love her. I   
should really just tell her straight-out. She would knock on the door   
as she always does, I would look up, she would smile and I would say,   
"Good morning, Scully. I like your suit. By the way, I love you. Want   
any coffee?" That would really be the most painless way to do it. She   
might have a cardiac arrest, but I could always give her CPR. A smile   
spreads across my face, but I quickly banish it, mentally chiding   
myself. I'm really going to have to stop thinking like some sick,   
lonely bastard with a crush on his partner. Scrap that-I'm really   
going to have to stop *being* some sick, lonely bastard with a crush   
on his partner. I need some goals. I could be some sick bastard who   
gets to wake up entangled in his partner... 

"Mulder!" her sharp voice snaps my eyes open and I gasp, not   
realizing I had closed my eyes while daydreaming. "Are you OK? You   
look a little flushed." I can feel my cheeks going from flushed to red-as-a-tomato.

"N-n-no," I mumble. God, I sound pathetic. "Actually, I was just   
remembering a time with Samantha." Her eyes soften with sympathy. I'm   
really going to have to stop using my missing sister as a way of   
getting out of sticky situations with Scully. "Do you ever suddenly   
remember an experience? Like something inside of you just suddenly   
*clicks*?" I'm back to dropping hints again. She looks at me blankly.   
"Like...Deja-vu?" I look at her hopefully. Her eyes widen.

"Deja-vu?" she whispers. Ohshitohshitohshit. She remembers. What do I   
do now? I didn't plan this far ahead. Fuck. 

"Mulder-" she starts, taking a deep breath, "You *know* I don't   
believe in random deja-vu. It's only when one comes into contact with   
something closely linked to something else earlier in their life-" I   
drown the rest of her speech out. She doesn't remember. I am caught   
in a dangerous place between relief and disappointment. 

"You mean you need hints to get deja-vu. Before something clicks."

"Exactly!" she replies, with a rare smile, happy at me finally   
agreeing with her. I feel like screaming. But I don't. I never do. Oh   
no, that would make too much sense. 

********  
You could resurrect a thousand words to deceive me more and more  
A thousand words will give the reasons why I don't need you anymore  
********

I glance at the neat pile of filled-out forms with satisfaction, then   
my eyes drift over to Mulder's desk. I can barely see him behind the   
mountain of blank forms mounting on his desk.

"Mulder." His head pokes out around the side of the mountain. "Why do   
I always finish before you?"

"You're just really good with paperwork, Scully. I'm better on the   
field." I narrowed my eyes.

"Don't forget who does all the autopsies."

"What do you mean?"

"Well...if you didn't have me to do the autopsies, we'd probably   
never solve any cases, right?" I have no idea what's brought on my   
sudden need to feel...needed.

"Um, yeah, I suppose so."

"You suppose so?"

"It's just...a lot of people are available to do autopsies, Scully."

"So I'm disposable, huh?" I frown and fold my arms over my chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I really don't like that look in her eye. Furious. Sharp. Savage. And   
I know if we delve any further into how much I actually need her,   
she'll know everything. It's just that sometimes I need her so much   
that the only way I can stop myself from pressing my body into hers   
is to deny that I need her at all. I don't need her. 

"No, Scully, it's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing!"

"It's obviously something!"

"It's *nothing*. I'm gonna go home."

"Mulder! You've got hundreds of forms to finish!" I lightly shrug my   
shoulders. "Don't you dare leave!" She's got that savage look again. 

"Scully, I..." I stride across the office, put my hands on her desk   
and lean down until our eyes are level. Her wide, blue eyes are   
staring into mine helplessly. Like a trapped animal. I kiss two   
fingers and press them onto her cheek until her eyes soften. "You   
know I need you, Scully." She smiles a little and I turn to leave.

"Mulder!" I stop, just before opening the door and turn to face her. "Click." 

I have to get out of here.

*******  
Well don't you know that time is a broken glass  
That splinters against the wall?  
But the picture is coming back now baby,  
And I want to take it all  
*******

"Mulder!" I stop, just before opening the door and turn to face her. "Click." 

I have to get out of here.

~~~~~~~~~

The door slams shut and the message is clear. Don't follow me. 

In the sudden silence of the room, I feel my pulse beating rapidly beneath the flesh of my wrists; my heart pounding in my ears; my uneven breathing-quick gasps of air, desperately trying to satisfy my dry lungs. The air is knocked out of me. It clicked. I remember. All day-the relentless string of off-the-wall comments and meaningful looks. All to get me to remember. The nine minutes, the empty promise, the look of love in his eyes. I have to get out of here.

********  
So let you're body move a little bit closer  
Silent like the sound proceeding a cyclone  
Don't you know that powerful thinking  
Can be a force you don't want to relinquish?  
********

"Damnit," he whispered to the wind as it blew air through his thoroughly tousled hair. His knuckles were skeletal white from his death grip on the bench he was sitting on. Their bench. He felt that if he let go of the bench at that moment, he'd be letting go of everything. She was everything. "Why does everything have to be so complicated?" he asked aloud.

"You're not experiencing violent impulses, are you?" He half-expected her to be there, but she surprised him enough for him to release his grip on the bench.

"Not right now," he replied feebly. 

"Mulder," she said forcefully. He looked up at her reluctantly. Her hands were on her hips and she wore an exasperated expression. "Don't start the pity act."

"Oh, I'm sorry if it bores you," he snapped. 

"It's not about boredom, Mulder."

"Then what is it about?" he challenged.

"It's about you."

"No, I think it's about you, Scully."

"Stop it!" she yelled and he edged further away from her across the all-too-small bench, irritating her further. "Stop pushing me round in circles!"

"Come the full circle to find the truth, right?" he replied, sarcasm outlining his words.

"And what's our truth, Mulder?" He looked up at her, not expecting the soft tone of voice. He shrugged in attempted disinterest, looking out to the Reflecting Pool.

"Maybe we haven't found it yet."

"Bullshit." His shoulders jerked involuntarily as her curse seemed to reverberate through him. "You found what I realized the day I walked into your office or maybe the day you walked over to me in that bar all those years ago. You found it in those nine minutes and you couldn't handle it!" Her eyes were locked with his, daring him to look away.

"*I* couldn't handle it?! *You* couldn't handle it! *You* walked away from *me* all those years ago'. *You* walked away," he emphasised.

"Damnit Mulder, you *stole* nine minutes from me!" 

"No. I *gave* them to you. I want to forget, but I can't. How could I forget? How could you?" He looked at her in desperation, in silent plea. And Dana Scully felt something she wasn't used to feeling, something she didn't feel she deserved, something that belonged to her partner. Guilt.

********  
Well, I'm only hanging on for what goes down  
I'm floating high and my feet don't touch the ground  
I'd take advantage but I can't see through this charade  
******** 

"I don't want to lose those nine minutes, Mulder." Her voice was soft now and she looked at him with sorrowful blue eyes, mourning the loss of something so wonderful that she couldn't even comprehend it. 

"They're not lost, Scully. They're here," he said, pressing her palm into the side of his head, "and there," he pressed her palm onto her heart. She let her eyes flutter shut, but quickly opened them again.

"No!" she yelled, forcefully hitting his hand away. "What happened in those nine minutes that is so important; so life-threatning, that it had to be concealed and forgotten about?"

"I told...I told," he stumbled, "I told you that I love you."

"What?" she said dumbly, her eyes wide.

"I love you goddamnit!" he yelled, searching her face for any clues to her reaction, but it was blank with shock.

"Mulder, I...I'm sorry, but-"

"Forget I ever said anything," he interrupted, walking away before it even registered in her that he wasn't there anymore.

"But I don't know what to say," she finished in a whisper.

END (11/12

-1 more part to go! Feed me back at [romantika@xfiles13.freeserve.co.uk][1] or I'll never get the last part written!

   [1]: mailto:romantika@xfiles13.freeserve.co.uk



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